


REVOLUTIONARY COFFEE

by AlexDoesFanfic



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Awkward Dates, Awkward Flirting, Co-workers, Coffee, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Homophobic Language, Humor, I'm Sorry Lin-Manuel Miranda, Love/Hate, Miscommunication, Multi, Oblivious, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Esteem Issues, Shotgunning, Tea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 11:29:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18260372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexDoesFanfic/pseuds/AlexDoesFanfic
Summary: John, Laffy and Mulligan all work in a coffee shop run by George. Throughout their work, they meet people that they create wonderful friendships with and eventually something more.This is practically a sweet-tooth fic with a little bit of angst and its basically just a place for me to vent when i feel like i wanna write.enjoy.. i guess, lmao.





	REVOLUTIONARY COFFEE

John sighed as he rolled over in his large plush bed, far too big for him in every way as he was quite a lot smaller than the average man. His hand blindly grasped for the alarm clock that had awoken him from his peaceful slumber. After finally falling asleep at around 3AM, Johns head throbbed with the fact that he would likely not sleep again until the same time that night. As soon as the harsh beeping stopped, the room filled with an eerie silence, the absence of sound causing a small ringing noise in Johns ears. The man then begun his mundane, somewhat usual routine that he had accidently fallen into. He threw the heavy covers from his body and swung his little legs off of the end of the bed. He stood up and instantly stumbled slightly from drowsiness having not slept enough at all.

John groggily rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes and checked the time on his cheap flip phone. 7:03 AM. Wonderful. He had enough time to comfortably get ready to the best of his ability without having to rush, before heading to work. John ran his hands through his practically untameable curls and headed to the bathroom which was only a couple of doors away from his bedroom. John then quickly showered and brushed his teeth, making sure he was clean enough to be acceptable in public. He absolutely dispized feeling unclean throughout the day or knowing that he had bad breath when he was having a conversation. John wrapped a fluffy towel around his waist and shuffled back to his bedroom, pulling his outfit for the day out of his cluttered and small wardrobe. John had chosen his typical outfit, a large, oversized beige sweater and some skinny blue jeans. Not forgetting the deep blue bandana that Hercules had given him for his birthday a few months ago.  
After finally getting dressed and fully waking up, John turned, reluctantly, to face the mirror and look himself over. He couldn’t lie, he had clearly looked better. The late hours and lack of sleep hadn’t been kind to him. There were large purple rings around his eyes that made John look like he had been in some serious fights. His eyes themselves looked darker than the brown that they were supposed to be, almost back and soulless. John was happy... he promises. John came to the conclusion, eventually that he was at least okay enough looking to leave his apartment this morning. He picked up his worn out satchel that he had owned for so many years and crammed his feet into his too small shoes before leaving for work with ten or so minutes to spare.  
Before John had left the apartment, he had a fleeting thought that maybe he should put on a jacket. However, he had dismissed that thought as the only jacket he owned was ripped to shreds and two sizes too small even for him. So, instead, John stupidly elected to attempt brave the harsh New York winds in his very thin, holy sweater.

About two seconds after John stepped foot out of his apartment and locked the door, he regretted his decision. Never-the-less, he had to get to work, and so there was no turning back now. Not even for extra clothing. John cursed himself for being such an idiot as he practically jumped down the apartment steps and started along the sidewalk. John had, thankfully, memorised his way to work after the fourth time he had tried to navigate through the streets. It was only a five minute walk from his apartment to the coffee shop on the corner where he worked, but the streets were incredibly confusing. Especially at the break of dawn when everybody else was also trying to rush to work too. John finally made it to the little shop, the large sign outside displayed the name ‘Revolutionary Coffee’ and John smiled up at it. The man scurried his way down the alley to the back door which was reserved for him and his co-workers. John then entered through the kitchen that wasnt yet in use.

John was greeted by a large blast of delightfully warm air as headed through the kitchen onto the shop floor. He pulled on his ugly green apron and his skin bristled uncomfortably against the plastic material. John then situated himself at his station behind the counter and finally stood still for the first time since he had woken up. The coffee shop was silent and the soft glow or orange lights splashed over the checkered tile floor when John flicked on the overhead lights.   
There wasnt anybody in the shop at this time as John was usually the first person to enter on the weekends. When discussing shifts, John had actually asked for the early times on Saturdays and Sundays, choosing to take the oppertunity to have some quiet time to himself. John usually made himself a small cup of mint bubble tea before his coworkers and any customers arrived and today was the same as any weekend. John threw some change that he had in his pocket into the cash register and started up the machine behind him. He then pulled out a chair and sat down.

The coffee shop was technically already open but on a Saturday morning, nobody came to get their coffee until some time after 10AM. Not even his fellow co-workers came in this early, knowing that he liked the peace. So, for John, this was just an idealic time for him to relax in a bubble he had created for himself, blocking out his reality and waiting for his life to whir back up again when the customers began to arrive. The machine behind his chair stunted to a stop (They may have to buy a new one) and John mixed together his sweet bubble tea and pulled out his notebook from his faded brown satchel.

John had probably worked at 'Revolutionary Coffee' for a little over a year now. Serving his drinks in the day and taking a few online classes at night. History and Art tended to be on his mind and therefore he chose those subjects to study in his downtime. John had come to realise that his life was a series of moments that weren’t exactly too discernable from each other but he didn’t really mind this. For John, it was easy to just relax and make friends through his work while doodling in his notebook and learning what he wanted to learn in his own time.

Johns hazel eyes flicked between concentrating on the empty and lonely tables and chairs before him and his little worn out notebook. He filled in some sketchy lines that he was unhappy with and tried desperately to work out the lighting for his terrible (in his own opinion) drawing. John was not particularly fond of his own drawings because he believed they felt too rushed. The only way that John was satisfied with his drawing was if he had spent the full day refining lines anding in so much detail that the overall drawing eventually becomes only a shadow of his original idea.   
John had always been the artist in the family ever since he was a child. He had always revelled in the smile on his mothers face when he ran towards her with a little scribble of a tortoise. His drawings always were the centre of attention on the fridge, in all of their glory. The young boy had always seemed to try to make light of a bad situation, drawing large flowery drawings to place on top of coffins when his pets died. His mother loved his artistic and creative abilities and had always encouraged him, constantly buying him art supplies and giving him spaces to let his imagination flow. His father was also somewhat proud of him in his own way, even if he never let John know that.

John took a mournful of sip of his bubble tea, his pencil stuttering slightly against the paper. Regretfully, He hadn’t seen his family in a few years due to some issues that the had, had. Even though it was clearly mostly his parents choice, John couldn’t help but miss them. He always seemed to blame himself because It had been his fault. Really... he had been far too careless. He knew the risks and he acted upon his desires despite that. Now he could never go back.

(flashback)

John eyes were golden with happiness as he giggled under the covers, his face red and his arms wrapped around the most beautiful man he had ever met. Max was pressed against him, counting the freckles on his shoulders with little chaste kisses and staring up at him with seductive eyes. Max, his tall, strong boyfriend, had been told countless times that they couldn’t stay at Johns . That they would always have to stay at either Max’s house or a friends. Max just didnt have the capability to listen or he didnt want to. The taller of the two had recklessly thrown caution to the wind and climbed through Johns open window like a modern day Romeo. Max knocked a few pencils off of the window but it thankfully didnt make enough noise to be noticed. John had almost had the strength to turn Max away. Almost explained to him the danger that they were in by just being in the same room. However, John’s will was weak around this boy and max knew it. All the boy had to do was throw off his hoodie and stare at John with puppy dog eyes. John had immediately given in to cuddles and soft touches. 

"I love you."   
John shyly whispered his confession under the sheets, his eyes wide and full of endless oppertunities. He was brave and unabashed and he would never be sorry for the way that he felt. If it was possible, he would never keep his feelings hidden if he truly loved somebody. Even though his and Max’s relationship hadn't been all that long, John was almost confident that he was in it deep. His chest heaving with the need to be with Max 24/7 even when it wasnt possible. John self conciously tangled his warm hands in Max's cold fingers. He rested his head on Max’s bare chest and sighed, comfortable in the silence. John was in a safe and soft headspace. Relaxed and so... in love.  
Max hadn’t had the time to answer to Johns vulnerable confession. John was almost certain, however, that even in Max had had the oppertunity, he wouldnt have said it back. Max was the kind of person that wasnt very in touch with their feelings and were a little scared of commitment. Never-the-less, before either of them could speak again, their quiet moment in the dark had been interrupted by the heavy padding of feet. The noise was slowly closing in on Johns bedroom door. John was panicked, pushing and shoving at the sheets, all love gone as he tried to make Max spontaniously dissapear before the terrifying intrusion.  
"JACK!!”  
It was too late. There was no time left to hide or run before Johns dad had burst through the door. His face was red and his ears were practically billowing with smoke as he begun screaming and shouting about how ashamed he was. Max had immediately freaked out, not knowing the full extent of Johns dads anger. They had both been stood in the middle of the small box bedroom, hands still firmly intertwined in fear before Johns dad marched towards them and ripped them apart. John felt the glide of Max’s fingertips as he was torn away, his heart dividing in that split second and he knew he would never feel the same again. He would never fill the void or fix the break. Max had headed for the window so fast that he was just a blur to John now as he fully jumped out to the bushes bellow, Johns dad chasing him away from HIS sons bed.

John had tried to desperately find some lame half-hearted excuse. Tried to come up with some other viable reason that he had been hidden under the bedsheets and giggling, shirtless with another man. John had tried so hard to play it off as an innocent sleepover with no romantic undertones at all. He had even yelled at his own father, crying that the two were 'just studying' and that his dad should really calm down. However, his dad had never been very politically correct and he had made it clear to John from an early age that girls were made for boys and there was absolutely no exception. His dad had stormed away and John didnt chase him. He just watched him leave through cloudy chocolate eyes. Nobody would listen to his excuses and nobody believed him, no matter what he said. Nobody ever listened to him.

Johns mother, although a sweetheart, had taken his dads side in the argument. She was not a person to judge other people but her husband held the power over her and she was clearly terrified of his obvious wrath. She had become too scared of her true love to defend her own son, in pure fear of being caught in the crossfire. She had sat up many nights after John had failed tests and lost a baseball game, taking the full force of her husbands frustration all to defend her baby. Not this time though. John knew he was completely done for as soon as his mother had began crying along with him, holding onto her husbands arm to keep him back and sending John and Max guilty and pitiful looks from across the room. 

After the whole ordeal, Johns little family had tried to reconcile the argument and had attempted to get along like normal. They had tried sitting down and compromising but Johns dad would become enraged so eventually they settled on completely ignoring the issue. However, John drew the line one night as he overheard his dad talking about gay camps and conversion therapy. His mothers pleas to let it be falling on deaf ears. John then came to the conclusion that he had no freedom in that house, so he was going to have to find his own way in life and take care of himself.  
His mother, like the angel that she was, had tried in vain to make him stay. Pleading with him in hushed whispers, telling John that she couldnt bare to lose her only son. Even when she knew she had been defeated, she clung onto her son until the very last minute, knowing it would be the last in a long while. Johns dad, on the other hand, had practically packed his bags and Pushed John out of the opened doors. Claiming that if John had chosen to leave it was perfectly fine by him. He didn’t want a 'f****t' in his life or his house, anyway.

(End of flashback)

John scribbled a long, deep black line over his drawing in anger the paper scraping and almost ripping as he scrawled. He then slammed his pencil down onto the counter, gulping down the last of his bubble tea and taking in huge gulps of breath. The young man wiped a few stray tears from his eyes in frustration. Figuring that there was no point on dwelling on something in the past that couldn’t be changed. John shook his head, telling himself to not be so stupid and got on with some actual work. Making himself presentable and milling around the still empty coffee shop, ensuring that it was clean and suitable for the customers that were soon to arrive.  
George, the owner of the store, was rarely seen in the little shop. He had made it clear in the beginning that he had Preferred to do his work from home with his cats. However, he did tend to show up in the middle of the night and leave little threatening messages for the customers around the shop that it was Johns job to clean up every morning. They were haphazardly littered across the little green tables and on top the tissue dispensers. The notes were worded along the lines of:  
"If you take more than you need, trust me, you'll regret it. You’re wiping a table not mopping up the sea."  
"Don't just sit there! Eat something you lazy twats! We arent a library or a study area, we’d actually prefer it if you failed somewhere else, thanks!"

How George was ever put in charge of a hospitality based business, John wasn’t sure. In the light of day, the owner was rather responsible aside from the occasional outbursts which would never come unless provoked. Besides, John could never say anything bad about his boss, because George was the one person that had taken John in. After a rather busy night in a small town bar, George had overheard his insane run away story and felt pity for the boy. John could never thank him enough for the kindness that George had displayed by hooking him up with a convenient job and a couple of good friends to make the homesickness a little less sickening. 

There were a few times, in his months working at the coffee shop, that John had wondered where he could have been if he had stayed home. If he had made it through university and graduated with straight A's or some form of qualifications. He may have quite probably been trapped in a loveless life where he couldn’t be free thanks to his dads hostility, but despite this, John had always desired to be a public speaker. Overlooking his little occasional stutter and nervous disposition in pursuit of being the voice of the peopel. Never-the-less, the young man was happy here. Serving his customers their drinks of differing variety and drawing (awfully) in his down time. He was far more relaxed now than he had ever been at home in his prison of a house. He no longer felt like he had to watch over his shoulder and hide who he was. 

John raised his head and threw the rest of his bubble tea away. He switched on his bright, customer greeting, smile and brushed his hands through his messy curls in an attempt to somehow train them back. John then straightened his awful apron and stood back in his position behind the counter, leaning on the wood and waiting until eventually, The bell dinged, signalling the first customer of the day. A lovely old lady who always came in first on a saturday morning, grabbing a weak tea on the way to her grand childs house with her precious little pugs. John adored the interactions he made on a daily basis, he really couldn’t think of anything better in that moment than giving the lady her tea and basking in the peacefulness of his relatively easy job.


End file.
